


We Walk Our Paths (Sharing This Burden)

by KryptidWriter



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Angst, Avatar!Luz Noceda, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Firebender! Amity Blight, Firebending & Firebenders, Fluff, Good Friends Willow and Gus, Hurt/Comfort, I saw barely any multiple chapter avatar au fics so i went, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender, Luz Noceda Is Trying Her Best, Luz Noceda Needs a Hug, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, She doesn't know what she's doing, Slow Burn, Very fitting i know, avatar AU, fine i'll do it myself, in an Avatar Au, mattholomule's there for some reason, self-deprecation, trust me he's important though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KryptidWriter/pseuds/KryptidWriter
Summary: “The official statement from the chief is that you went missing in action years ago. I guess they presumed you dead out there, at the hands of Fire-nation soldiers.” She took another sip, then continued, “Everyone has been searching for you since the war kicked off, and everyone kinda lost hope. They won’t find you here unless they come knocking.”Years?“Years?” she frowned, impatiently.“The Avatar has been missing since the war started,” Augustus states, bewilderment evident on his features. “Over one-hundred years ago.”or:A rediscovered Avatar, A murderous fire-bender, and three idiotic teenagers. Certainly, nothing can go wrong.
Relationships: Amity Blight/Luz Noceda, Mattholomule/Gus Porter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	1. Soldier of Misfortune

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, Its me again. 
> 
> So this is another self-indulgent AU of mines, because their aren't many Avatar: The Last Airbender inspired stories in this fandom (at least, not from my knowing) and I wanted to combine the two things I love the most. I don't know the update schedule for this story, but it won't be that frequent. Sorry. 
> 
> Title is from Fire Force OP "inferno" English cover by Studio Yuraki. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Taking in a deep breath, her disoriented mind fails to recognize the scent of the bedsheets, and within a few moments, she realizes that she isn’t even in her own cottage. 

Luz opens her eyes and immediately regrets it, trying to steady her swimming brain as the ceiling swirls above her. She’s thankful that the noren panels in the room are dense enough that the only sunlight to peer through is between the shades themselves. It’s enough to illuminate most of the space, one stream of sunlight in particular casting a honey-dew glow upon a lengthy wooden object, carved with curving lines and sharp edges. 

‘My guilder,” She realizes. ‘How’d it end up here?’ 

As she lies there trying to find her bearings, she can’t help but notice how considerably cramped the room is, decorated with earthy-tones and a sizable shrub tucked in the corner of the room. 

With a sigh, Luz attempts to lift her head, but is met with throbbing pain once more. Groaning, she knows that- if she were to simply lift herself out of this bed- she could begin to remedy the headache with some water and fresh fruit, but the challenge is getting herself to move at all. 

“Sorry about the bindings,” A soft feminine voice spoke, carefully maneuvering through the doorway with two hands gripping a pale of water, “you were tossing and turning in your sleep, delirious I believe. So we had to tie you up in order to clean your cuts…” the voice continued, endearing and apologetic. “Now, keeping the bandages in place was a different story. You truly are restless.” 

Scrunching her nose with the onslaught of information suddenly being thrown her direction, she furrowed her eyebrows and kept a steady gaze towards the young girl. 

“Missing in action, the official statement from the chief,” the young girl interrupted her thoughts, her voice serious yet gentle. She places the water bucket besides her and takes a step back. “The rebel-seekers found you nearly half-to-death and they brought you here for us to patch you up.” the young girl said. From her appearance and how she spoke, the airbender estimated that the girl was around her own age. Her warm, earth-toned clothing indicated that she was an earthbender, most likely. 

Rebel seekers?

Us?

Headache notwithstanding, she props herself onto her elbows and pushes herself up, swinging her legs over the side of the mattress. The girl walks forward and quickly unravels the bindings around her wrists. Luz gives her words of gratitude and huffs, lifting her hand to gentle rub at her aching temples. 

“Thank you,” she pauses to swallow before finishing her sentence, “I appreciate it.” The girl’s dyed prussian hair- of which is partially reminiscent of a childhood friend of hers- flips almost magnificently over her shoulder as she turns to face the Airbender to her left. 

“Anyway, It’s important to stay put. Are you feeling okay? How’s your head?” She asks, pulling forward a small chair tucked between three large boxes. She seats herself, one leg crossed over the other, then continues with a proper look at the person seated in front of her. 

“...I’m fine,” she says, leaning backwards until her shoulder blades rest against the stone-walls. “How long have I been here?” A simple interrogation seemed appropriate at the moment, considering she had no clue as to what had happened or where she was currently. 

“How is it that you know me?” Luz inquired straightforwardly, hands folded and resting in her lap. 

“Everyone knows who you are,” she said, an involuntary chuckle escaping her lips. 

Luz nodded in silence and scratched her forehead. Raising an eyebrow, she reformulated her previous question. “How is it that you know about me?” 

There’s a palpable silence between the two; the prussian haired girl turning her head to gaze through the adjacent window, listening to the pattering footsteps of patrons walking down the stone pathway. She opens her mouth to speak before quickly stopping herself, seemingly struggling to conjure the correct words necessary to describe such a simple scenario. 

“It is a known fact…” 

“What is?” Luz replied, sharply and adamant, her poorly concealed undertone betraying her simple words. She sighs, voice trailing off as she was pronouncing her next words, “I apologize for the attitude.” she says, “I don’t know what’s going on and I’m… confused, to say the least.”

“The name’s Willow, in case you wonder,” she said before turning forward and walking through the front entranceway, the air-nomad eyeing her empty placement speculatively. The presence of a name changes the equation; it conveys an identity that becomes undeniably attached to an individual- an individual who she lacks sufficient knowledge and information about her situation- and the notion, quite frankly, frightens her. 

Still intertwined in such a conundrum and puzzled beyond human comprehension, she carefully stands from the mattress and walks towards the entryway, grabbing her guilder and momentarily using the doorframe to steady herself as the floor swirls beneath her. Upon looking into the hallway, she finds the girl- Willow, she commits to memory- leaning against the wooden walls dividing the corridor from the outside world. 

The airbender trudged through the empty corridor, the duo’s pattering footsteps sounding off the planked walls. WIthin a few moments, they arrived inside a sizable dining hall where several patrons were seated. She takes a short moment to examine her surroundings: she was most-certainly inside the Earth-kingdom, judging from the earth-toned banners and signs hung inside the establishment. It was modest but cozy, significantly bigger than her bedroom at the Southern Air Temple. She felt tempted to question the girl about her whereabouts, the more advanced aspects of this newfound area, and her situation in general. 

But as usual, words seem to fail the two benders miserably, both walking wordlessly besides each other in the basking, soothing glow of the ascending morning sun, the towns dim and mysterious presence seems to make the moment even more brooding, the distant prickle of condensation sizzling underneath the thick fog. 

“Where are you taking me?” Luz inquiries, staff propped underneath her right armpit. The question lingered in the air- whether Willow's intentions were well-meaning and not an attempt to possibly trick her were still unclear. 

“To the upper-decks. Augustus and Mattholomule can probably help you.” 

Who? 

The muted crunch of twigs and leaves beneath their feet slowly transform into quiet clicks as they walk onto the silk, glossy pavement. The pathway curves into what could be described as a lopsided loop before turning upright and leading into a rather large warehouse, the blossoming honey-dew sun brilliantly coloring the skyline and peeking past the towering building. 

The warehouse is quite spacious inside, several large containers and boxes stacked between each other and tucked in corners. To her left, there are several mats and blankets divided by stonewalls to protect potinelly users' privacy, and a feeding area set towards her right. Several benders of different colonies and areas are gathered around a pristine wooden stage watching a performance. 

While quite a few are busied with their own conversations, most of the people present- adults and children alike- are enamored with the performances of the several benders on stage. The one clad in warm oranges contorts her body into a ring, the arches of her feet fitting securely over the curve of her skull as she lays on her abdomen, then lifts herself up with her hands flat. Her companion, dressed in a fierce crimson, follows that by placing both hands in front of her feet and lifting one leg straight up, becoming completely vertical with his toes pointed towards the sky, bringing his other leg up to perform a handstand. 

They complete their tricks simultaneously, the orange contortionist unfurling her body into a handstand as well as before of them repeat the same motions of her partner before, moving to opposite sides of the stage in practice motions with unmatched elegance. The crowd around them erupt in applause when the two of them meet again in the center, the crimson dressed performer bellowing a stream of brustling fire before assembling themselves into a tower once more. 

While she may be above average in terms of physical fitness, she has and will likely never be able to accomplish the same feats as these performers. She thinks, if she ever tried, she’d almost certainly break her neck in the process. 

A hand clasping her shoulder reminds her of where she is. “I apologize if I’m holting our ‘tour’.” she says sheepishly. 

“Please think nothing of it.” Willow asks, to which the air-nomad agrees, walking towards the open double-doors leading towards the back-garden areas. 

They stroll further west, finding themselves being guided down a stone-paveway with a plethora of brightly colored flowers being nudged slightly in the gentle breeze flowing through the garden. Luz recognized several flowers instantly, specifically it's wide array of hydrangeas, due to its association with unity and togetherness- something the air-nomad culture cherished deeply. The etymological meaning may be lost on many, but it is truly useless if it at least represented something to her? 

After the lengthy stroll, they reach the platform where the two teenagers- Augustus and Mattholomule, if she is assuming correctly- have stationed themselves. The elevated bed of grass is walled off from the stream below it with an elegantly wavy row of matching bricks, connecting to the basin of the river naturally. A stairway on the side leads up to the deck, shaded by a tree of grandiose size that rustles gently above them.

She is surprised to see that they have no students surrounding them, and watches as the boy dressed in brilliant blues adds a wave to the stem trailing along the neck of his companion, using delicate strokes to create the petals of a primrose right under his jaw. The teenaged-boy in magnificent ceruleans giggles, complaining about being tickled by the thin brush tracing along his skin, and his partner pauses in his painting with a smile that scrunches his eyes with adoration before leaning forward for a kiss. 

She takes a short moment to admire the artistry of the koi curling around his jawline of the boy dressed in ceruleans, warm oranges and sharp blues blending in carefully on each scale. The vibrancy of the colors indicate that it's fairly new, which would explain why she does not remember such an elegant piece despite its apparent importance around the campsite. 

Perhaps she could inquire about its importance and royalty when she’s finally settled. 

As Willow goes around back for her belongings, the air-nomad ruminates the image of the koi painted like that of the ocean’s vivid waters, composed of magnificent cerulean and electric blues, shaped with curving lines and wavy forms. It would be stylized much like the depictions her caretakers would describe when conversing about the different nations, long and lean-bodied, sharp-faced with beautiful patterns. A butterfly koi would be most fitting, she thinks, due to its similar colors. 

It takes a considerable amount of self-control to not pry further at the mention of the Firelord, desperately curious as to what this new fire-siege tyrant is to her, to gather a more comprehensive image of the man outside of small pieces of information she’s gotten through off-handed comments. 

She wondered why she’d be so important to the Fire Nation- let only the royal family. 

Instead, she replies with the standard pleasantry, greeting them warmly. When the two of them let go, Augustus extends his free arm and she grasps her hand to give a firm handshake. His grip is just as strong, and a quick look at his muscles in his bicep indicates that he’s quite the weightlifter. He introduces himself, his aura emanating a similarly childlike quality like that of his partner. 

Augustus escorts Luz to one of the padded cushions, his curly hair being gently nudged in the breeze blowing through the back-garden. Willow herself carefully bends downwards and seats herself on the occupied cushion, hands resting flatly against the chabudai table. With a generous spoonful, Luz adds sugar to her cup before pouring herself, repeating the same rising motion borne from years of watching her master serve tea after training sessions. If she’s being honest, though, she would rather be having jasmine with these people using more customary and traditional instruments- crushing blocks and rollers, brushes, whisks, stone mills- rather than pre-made tea created from electronic equipment. 

Perhaps that’s just her deeply-buried homesickness peeking through her thoughts, but for her the differences between each bending colonies tea practices are not as important as their similarities, and being able to share a common practice with someone who’d connect to it on a personal level is an idea that threatens to make her downright giddy at the prospect. 

That, however, will have to wait until she can understand the situation she is currently tangled in, and how exactly she’s going to find herself out of it. 

They spend a couple of minutes in an uncomfortable silence, taking mindfully sips of still-steaming tea. Amidst the quiet hush that has fallen over the humble patio-deck, Willow compliments Augustus’ brewing ability and their gazes meet once more. Willow appears anxious, a sight that brings a terrible twisting inside Luz’s stomach. Her shoulders hunch, and she gulps down the tea she momentarily forgot she was drinking. 

Augustus’ hands drum against the table and he begins an absolutely-not-frenzied attempt at small talk. “So, how was your tour around the campsite?” 

Luz swallows her sip and clears her throat before replying, “Everything is certainly… interesting. I’ve never seen so many different types of benders in one place before- let alone peacefully.” she sighs, lightly spinning the tea inside her ceramic cup. “The flowers here are lovely. I really like the hydrangeas. We air-nomads cherish these flowers.” 

The silence that follows is almost deafening. 

Luz fiddles with the teacup, slowly spinning it in crooked ellipses atop the wooden table surface. “So, how long have you guys known each other?” 

Willow’s eyes drift towards the patio-ceiling, likely working to remember a number she has not thought of in quite some time. After a few moments, she states having met Augustus and Mattholomule when the two migrated to the refugee-camp they currently inhabited, but more than four years ago. Not able to place exactly when, Willow estimates their meeting being approximately six years ago. 

“You all are benders?” Luz inquiries. 

“Yes,” Willow nods, raising the teacup to her lips, “We’re all benders here,” she pauses before amending the statement with, “Well, most of us.” 

This elicits a chuckle from Augustus, playfully nudging the boy beside him. Mattholomule crosses his arm and makes an indignant rebuttal about Augustus’ own lackluster fighting abilities outside of bending. Luz inquires which bending type he practices, to which Augustus proudly exclaims his waterbending status and how both he and Mattholomule originated from the southern water-tribe. Luz presses further, wondering how long they have been outside the water-tribe, a question that makes Augustus squirm slightly in his seat. 

“We… had to flee the southern water-tribe. It was dangerous for us to stay, especially with the Fire-nation’s repeated attacks.” Augustus says, punctuated by Mattholomule nodding, a frown twisting his lips. 

“‘Repeated’ attacks?” Luz asks, her hazel eyes gazing into Augustus’ dark ones. She’s flipped back and forth between being horrifically curious and incredibly anxious, feeling the atmosphere shift from slightly uncomfortable to unbearably vulnerable. 

She watches as Mattholomule’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead, a slightly bewildered expression on his face. Lowly, he hums, “Strange. Everyone knows of the Fire-nation’s anarchy.” 

Without hesitation, Augustus responds with a solid, backhanded smack on Mattholomule’s chest. Mattholomule groans as he leans forward, his groans becoming mixed with the occasional pain-induced cough. Luz purses her lips, eyebrows furrowed in anxiousness and looming dread. It was becoming overwhelming obvious that the people surrounding her were dishonest and potentially hiding her only way home. 

And she wasn’t going to fall victim to their foolish behavior once more.

Without hesitation, the airbender rises to her feet and swiftly steps backward, feet planted firmly on the cement pavement and knees carefully bent. The base of her guilder is tucked beneath her right arm and her hand steadies the pole, her left hand gripping the top forcefully and pointing towards the individuals currently seated beneath the patio. The wooden sensation of the object pressed firmly against her palms, providing her with twisted self-confidence, was enough for her to try to approach the situation from a different perspective: her limitations were being met with pointless commentary and needless pleastaries. 

“The rebel-seekers. Who are they?” She demanded imperatively, a slight growl behind her sentence. 

The trio seemingly simultaneously lowered their heads- despite how victorious the winning sensation felt, the airbender knew it was merely a detail, and a simple detail wouldn’t be enough to send her home. She would have to be more intelligent than that, and understand that their two different methods couldn’t co-exist with each other. Their efforts to keep it lightweight were adamantly meritorious, true- but the airbender’s more corrosive, apprehensive strategies were certainly thriving, and they would soon be leading the race. 

That, and she was the one holding the weapon. 

“The rebel-seekers, refugees you could call them,” Augustus begins, interrupting her internal musings. The meaning of his words carried an intimacy she would not reciprocate no matter how impure his demeanor was. “People who had their livelihood destroyed by the Fire-nation’s anarchy.” 

“Go on,” She commanded abruptly, her vision adjusting to the current situation at hand: extracting all possible information from the trio. “The rebel-seekers. What is it that they do exactly?” Her look, now more impersonal and defiant than before, made them know that she was getting sick of pointless banner and half-truths. 

“They mostly chase down any Fire-Nation spy’s and bring them into our prisons for interrogation. They get money in return,” Willow explains, briefly pausing to drink from her ceramic teacup, eyes never leaving the air-nomad’s. “Now imagine- If a Fire-nation spy is worth a handful of coins, you’re their ticket to paradise.” Luz’s gaze widened in surprise, she was not expecting that- she would never be comfortable being someone’s prey. 

“Why?” 

“The official statement from the chief is that you went missing in action years ago. I guess they presumed you dead out there, at the hands of Fire-nation soldiers.” She took another sip, then continued, “Everyone has been searching for you since the war kicked off, and everyone kinda lost hope. They won’t find you here unless they come knocking.” 

Years? 

“Years?” she frowned, impatiently. 

“The Avatar has been missing since the war started,” Augustus states, bewilderment evident on his features. “Over one-hundred years ago.”


	2. Hysterical Hoodlum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certainly, there is a way home, right? 
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. I hope you enjoy this chapter! I admit, it feels a bit rushed in my eyes, but please try to enjoy it nonetheless.

The time for tribulation was still far from over and yet, she knew there was no point in getting trapped in a haze of depression so dense it could suffocate her. The airbender circled around the three teenagers seated before her, feet moving cautiously and delicately across the stone pavement. There was a tacit yet quite palpable frontier between the teenagers and Luz, an invisible wall diving them- their side engulfed with unspoken information and her side, filled with questions that still needed numerous answers. 

“What do you mean ‘one hundred years’?” Luz demanded, guilder now pointed towards the ground instead of the group. “What is the calendar?”

“Ninety-nine AG,” Mattholomule states, slightly nervous. 

There is a thin, barely perceptible line between a lie and a half-truth; she knew this internally and accepted the concept nonetheless. All things considered, she only needed these individuals for one true purpose: going back home. She was certain that the minute the odds turned against her she’d be irredeemably doomed; best case scenario is that she'd spend an uncomfortable amount of time here before going home- worst case scenario, she’d never make it back to the Southern Air Temple. 

Though, finding herself completely alone in a world with strangers brought a stinging sensation she wasn’t prepared for. Her mind became unfocused and was struggling to remain level-headed, failing to stick to the plan she had conceived mere moments ago- but now the unwelcomed depression and loneliness was harder to accept than death itself; now it was completely up to her to find her newfound life and the constant danger she was immersed in was a invariable reminder of everything that had gone wrong in the matter of a few hours. 

She thought about her family, her friends, her teachers- were they still alive? Supposedly, she was one-hundred years into the future. Did they spend every waking hour of their lives searching for her? How did they cope knowing one of their own was missing? Melancholy was weighing heavily on her shoulders, even the thought of these three invaded her thoughts. These were complete strangers, and yet, they were the closest thing to family she had now. 

She sighed; the indignation caused in her by this information had now been intrinsically mixed with the turmoil of utter defeat and depression. She unceremoniously collapsed onto the plush zabuton besides the chabudai table, head resting in her hands. She laughed, bitterly, sensing the lingering eyes of the individuals sitting besides and across from her. She was infuriated; her twisted mind was corrupting her thoughts and clouding her judgment, her fist gripping and curling around her brown locks. Is this no more than a reminder of what she was? Something left behind, something forgotten, something buried in the maze of yesteryears and oblivion? 

And to think she’d perhaps find her way back home.

Willow hesitatingly places a hand on her shoulder. “Do you need to be alone?” she asks, leaning to the side to get a better look at Luz’s reaction. “We can check back on you later, if you’d like.”

Mattholomule’s eyebrows twist in concern, but he says nothing. Augustus nods meekly besides him. 

Luz softens at the notion- brows relaxing and her frown transforming into a slight smile- and moves to run a hand through her hair, aiding in relaxing and comforting herself. She lowers her head briefly, gaze wandering before her surroundings; traveling from the parakeet, swaying leaves of the sycamore maple above them to the plethora of hydrangeas resting in the flowerbed in the fields. She exhaled, lifting her head and glancing around the group. 

There was no use in hiding from the undeniable. 

“I apologize for my debacle earlier,” Luz begins, somber. “I shouldn’t have responded with such force.” 

“Considering the situation you’re in, I would have reacted the same way,” Willow says, hands wrapped around the ceramic teacup. “You needn’t worry yourself.” 

Luz lets out a breathy laugh, ducking her head in a possible attempt to hide her strained smile from view. The juxtaposition of beloved images clouded her senses- but only briefly. She knew she had to be strong. After all, all those beloved images of environments and appearances had been fuel that had kept her going- now was not the time to succumb to her depression. 

“I don’t know what to do now. Everyone I’ve ever known is gone. Where am I supposed to go?” 

There’s a beat of silence among the table, the sound of chirping birds filling the lull. That is, until several noises interrupted their sullen thoughts. 

There were noises coming from the outside, a crescendo of whispers and voices combined with the sound of countless feet moving, marching nonstop and against the pavement. They looked over, curious, and moved towards the back entrance- a crowd was trudging down the street, all of the refugees were there, the only and most familiar faces she had now. She frowned, confused as to what was occurring. She held her guilder closely to her side before walking forward. Mattholomule grabbed her wrist, stopping her before coming around and pulling the hood of her poncho over her head. 

“We have to be careful,” He explains succinctly. “We don’t know what's happening. It could be dangerous. Everyone stay alert.”

The moment they were out on the streets, the teenagers immediately began to feel as if they were being swept along by a tidal wave of a thousand faces. Luz quickly stretched the edges of her poncho and managed to obscure her face with its hood once more, making her way through the clusters of people. 

“Where are we going?” Luz said, turning to an older woman marching besides her. 

“To the meeting house. The chief has an announcement to make.” The women said, swiftly fading into the immensity of bodies surrounding her. 

Luz tried to turn around and find someone familiar, it she found her goal impossible- the crowd was acting as a thick, impenetrable wall that would force her straight down the pathway with decision. She lowered her head, trying to make her undeniably air-nomad appearance fit in amongst the countless different benders walking around her. 

All of a sudden, the crowd stopped marching and a line of guards became visible from where she was standing- they were informing the citizens about the itinerary they were supposed from that point on, considering the mass was about to enter the courtyard. They were organized and armed with shields, in case a riot should arise. The people quieted; listening to the carefully constructed directions they were given and soon obeyed, creating a never-ending queue consisting of no more than five people. They walked to the courtyard in silence, all eyes pointed towards the meetinghouse's balcony. Luz looked over her shoulder; the guards were intrinsically human, despite the beak-like masks obscuring most of their faces. 

The monumental figure of the chief emerged from the shadows of the balcony and walked towards the crowd. Even with his mask obscuring his features, he seemed rather satisfied as he placed his hands on the railings; his voice stern yet calm. 

“In these trying times, we are required to view every resource as a weapon for our Emperor to use at his discretion.” The chief began as his personal guards, the selected group of picturesque individuals, placed themselves a few steps behind him. “To take without his leave is to steal from the hand of Emperor Belos himself. Therefore, having been found guilty of theft, you shall be put to death.” The chief finished as he pointed his index finger to the sky, the gesture was a battle-cry, spurring his followers. 

“Your sentence will be carried out… immediately!” He roars, and the four teenagers watch in horror as two of his personal guards wrangle the arms of a quite malnourished man, forcefully slamming him against a stained bench before tying his wrists together. The grooved blade of the guillotine glinted softly in the midday light.

“I was hungry.” The man whimpers, but none seems to mind his begging. 

Luz stared in disbelief, face flushing with anger. “Execution. For such a petty thief?” 

“Remember where you are,” Augustus is quick to say. “Interfering will reward you with dire consequences-”

She doesn’t wait for him to finish his sentence, squeezing her way through the immense crowd and ignoring the shouts of protest from the teenagers behind her. 

She still remembered most of the path; of that she was sure. She doubted she could just march onto the stage, but that seemed somehow decontextualized now that her feet were planted on the ground beneath her- her eyes still fixed, clinging to the vexation left by the remains of the chief's silhouette vanishing into the darkness surrounding the balcony. The path was stretching before her, bifurcated and obscure, as she squeezed her way through the clusters of people, guilder held protectively between her arms. 

This new-found and only partial confidence was frightening, exhilarating. She takes a deep breath, taking in the slightly crisp air. It fills her chest with a lovely sharpness, electrifying every branching airway of the lungs. Without hesitation, she lunges forward and swings her guilder forward, sending a steady burst of wind in the guards’ general direction. They stumble backwards, losing their balance and tumbling off the edge of the stage. The crowd gasps in surprise. 

Luz circles around the bench, untying the ropes restricting the man's wrist and freeing him. He gives his words of gratitude before hurrying off in the opposite direction and fleeing into the heavily forested area surrounding the campsite. The previously downed guards return to stage and are quick to position themselves, knees carefully bent and fists raised in anticipation. The rumors were spreading as those anonymous, restless voice continued their song: 

What is this sorcery?

Did that girl just control the wind? 

How did she do that?

Is she an airbender? They’ve been gone for years!

One of the guards strikes first, lunging forward with an open-palmed strike aimed at the air-nomad’s ribcage, to which the air-bender swiftly evades with a side step. They quickly return to position and she immediately reciprocates with her own prod, the blunt end of her guilder landing firmly on her opponent's shoulder. 

Her opponent stumbles backwards, cradling their injured shoulder before the guard besides her leaps forward, using the entirety of his upper-body strength in his efforts. Luz holds him in place, foot struggling to remain in place on the slippery flooring. In what she perceives is a split second, she slips from her stance and the guard brings her down in a controlled fall, landing hard on the wooden stage and dropping her guilder. Luz groans, losing her orientation and unable to reclaim itself. Amidst the daze, the guard flips her onto her back, shifting to straddle her arms together, the other guard coming and lifting her from the ground. 

Sweat gathers around her forehead and beneath her arms, the exertion exacerbating the burning swelter brought upon them by the summer evening. Her chest heaves and sweat trickles along her face, the sweaty taste swimming inside her open mouth. Her heart is hammering against her breastbone and she rises to her feet. Luz looks over her shoulder, eyes locking onto the guards eyes through the mask, skin creased around his eyes as if he were grinning beneath the mask. 

Luz felt a harmony of warmth working within her, pleasant and powerful and longing for something she didn’t have. She moved alongside the heat, sparking immediately at the instinctive kick. The crowd gasped in surprise and the guards loosened their grip. The bold, fierce flames were a sight to behold coming from each aimless move that seemed to flow from her naturally. The embers died down slower than before, swiftly whipping her head around and bringing forth a bellowing stream of fire towards the guards. 

The crowd’s murmurs became louder, and their words became bolder. 

That girl is the Avatar!

There is only one true Avatar and that is our Emperor!

Witchcraft!

Luz scanned her surroundings, finding raised eyebrows and wrathful faces. Even the guards besides her look astounded, eyes having gone wide behind their masks. She tried to focus on the indistinct chatter but there were too many combined voices playing tricks inside her head- the only thing she was certain was their subject of conversation: her. Panicked, she searches around her crowd and finds Augustus and Mattholomule staring in utter confusion and shock, with Willow having a solemn but knowing look twisting her features. 

Without thinking, she grabs her guilder and hops off the stage, fleeing into the forest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
